What is love? Oh baby, don't slap me
by frukforever
Summary: A Briton who is a big fan or fashion and vocaloids, and who is a bigger sucker for romance than he wants to admit, tells the story of how he met the love of his life. It's cliché, it's sappy, but it's what happened. /Also, I'm really sorry for the title. I couldn't come up with anything cute and romantic, and my sense of humor is horrible. And I'm not sure if this is humor #Itried


**I was sitting in the train today, and listening to Miku tan's English cover of Romeo and Cinderella. There was also a very, very cute girl sitting opposite me. And I got inspired~**

Our story was, and still is, a big cliché. And it just might be, that my memory is not perfect, that it all didn't happen in this exact way. But it is my story, and I can tell it however I want to. So it is not your job to judge me if I add a little bit more of romance into the story. Even though everyone who knows Francis also knows that there is absolutely no need to add any romance. The man is a huge sap, he really is. But he's my sap. My sappy frog.

I'm not quite sure why I wrote that. Ahem. Let me begin.

It was winter back then, January, to be exact. I was on my way to Paris to buy some new clothes for myself. It's not like there weren't enough great stores back in London, but I think that the French have quite a good taste when it comes to fashion. A bit too flamboyant sometimes, but there are some really great designers in there.

I usually surprise people when I start talking about designer clothes. I don't really look like anyone who would care that much about fashion since I'm usually wearing a sweater vest or a band t-shirt. But when it comes to going to a business meeting or on a date, I prefer looking good, and I know what kind of clothes suit me.

Today, I hadn't bothered to think too much about my outfit. My over sized, deep red Christmas sweater was luckily hidden underneath my winter coat (Chanel, I might add). The gray scarf I was wearing didn't really match the coat, but I didn't care. It was too cold that day not to wear it, and it hid my earphones, making sure that no one could hear what I was listening to. My music taste is quite weird, you see.

I do like many older bands, for example The Who, and of course I listen to all the rock bands whose t-shirts I have. But. Even though for a 25-year-old male it is quite embarrassing to admit, I'm really fond of Japanese music, especially vocaloids. For that, I thank and blame my good friend Kiku, who introduced me to this kind of music a few years ago. I thought it was weird, at fist, but I had to admit that it was cute as well, and before I even knew it, I was listening to vocaloids all day and night.

So, there I sat on my seat, looking down at the floor as I listened to the song that was playing on my iPod. I happened to stare at the man's shoes that was sitting opposite me. Black and brown leather, Louis Vuitton. They were nice shoes, I had to admit. I was interested in seeing what other brands he was wearing, and so I lifted my gaze, dragging it along his body. His clothes suited him very well, the deep blue winter coat looking absolutely amazing.

I feel so in love just like Cinderella.

I looked up into his eyes just when I heard that part of the song, and even though it was completely ridiculous, my heart started racing.

There was a very amused look on the man's face, and I blushed as I realized he had caught me checking him out. I did the most childish thing I only could do at the moment; buried my face into my scarf, my eyes fixed at his shoes again. And I kept my gaze there, I didn't dare to look up anymore. There was still that weird feeling in my chest, a weird longing to look at the other man again. But I didn't do that. Love in the first sight does not exist.

When the train stopped, I rushed out. I nearly bumped into the nice-shoes-guy, but I tried just to ignore that. Stuffing my iPod into the pocket of my coat, I tried to make my way through the mass of people towards the metro station. I did get there after a while, but because my luck was being just so amazing that day, I had to face another problem; the woman who was selling tickets didn't speak English. I could speak a little bit of French, but not even nearly enough so that she could understand me. And then, there was a hand on my shoulder.

"Let me help you. Where are you going?"

If a voice can be perfect, that voice sure was. I wasn't even surprised when I looked down and saw the already familiar Louise Vuitton shoes I had seen in the train. Once again, too embarrassed to look up, I muttered the name of the store where I wanted to get, and he bought me a ticket. He didn't even ask for me to pay for it, he just pushed the ticket into my hand with a bright smile (I didn't see it since I was looking at the floor, but I could hear it in his voice when he said "You're welcome), and bought a ticket for himself too.

I headed towards the metro, without thanking him. It was very rude of me, but I couldn't help myself. I was still very embarrassed, and I was sure that this man thought I was a fool.

"If you are trying to avoid me, you won't succeed."

I don't believe in fate. I really don't. I don't believe that meeting a stranger who actually seems to be interested in talking to me, who wears brands that I like, who is absolutely perfect, is fate. It was just a coincidence, and this man didn't even like me. He was just pitying me, wasn't he? Trying to be nice to a stupid Englishman who can't even speak French no matter how many times he has been to Paris.

"You know, a gentleman never ignores anyone."

I could hear the smirk in his voice, and I had to admit that at that very early moment of our lives tangles together, I thought he was irritating and annoying. I still do. But I know that I'm twice as annoying, so I guess it's only fair.

"What do you want?" My voice came out much harsher than I meant it to be, though the expression on my face softened as I looked up at him. Perfection. Absolute perfection. His face looked it was sculpted, those blue eyes looking like sapphires. His face was framed so nicely by golden locks and slight stubble, and even though his hair was long, it didn't make him look feminine at all. He was handsome in a way that stole my breath.

"Hm? Do I need to want anything? I just happen to find you very beautiful, and isn't it in anyone's nature to want to be around beautiful things?"

Did he just say that? Did I just slap him? I think he did, and I'm most certainly sure that I did too. My hand was frozen in air after I slapped him, my eyes widened. I hadn't meant to hit him like that, I was just so shocked. No one had ever said anything like that to me before, and I was sure he was only making fun of me.

As I stood there, completely frozen, I was expecting him to turn around and just walk away. I was expecting him to yell at me. I was expecting an insult, a slap on my own cheek.

But no, of course not. This absolute perfection of a man soon recovered from his own shock took my hand into his, and kissed the back of it. "Don't worry, I like it rough."

I absolutely hated him after that comment. I loathed him with every single part of my body. But I followed him into the metro, I sat down beside him and I talked to him like I had known him for my whole life. I spent the whole day with him, both of us annoying each other as much as we possibly could.

We met again a week after that. Me and Francis had exchanged phone numbers and emails after that day in Paris, and it was obvious that we wanted to see each other as quickly as possible. It was difficult, though, with Francis living in Paris and me living in London. But as soon as the next Friday came, I took the first train to Paris, and met the other at the train station.

"Flowers for the most beautiful person in the world", Francis beamed as he gave me a bouquet of roses, then raising his hands, covering his face. "Don't slap me now, okay?"

Me, being the absolute jerk I am, kissing my own hand as if I was going to blow him a kiss, and as soon as he lowered his hands, slapped him on the cheek. Francis didn't have time to react before I had snatched the roses and started walking away. Soon I felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist and pull me against his chest as he kissed the top of my head. "I hate you so much."

I ended up staying the whole weekend in his apartment with him.

That year was the worse and the best one of my life. I fell in love for the first time ever, but I also learned what it was like to miss someone so much you don't even want to get out of bed when you know you cannot see him that day. But in a way, it made it even more special when we did see each other.

The long distance between us was also a way to test our relationship, and our feelings towards each other. There was so much trust in between us. We always knew that the other was coming over, that the other wasn't cheating. And we could always, always know that we loved each other more than anything.

Exactly a year after we had met we were walking through a park that was near to my house. I had my earphones on and I was listening to some music, just enjoying Francis' warmth as he wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me close.

"Arthur..."

I took off one of the earphones as I heard my name, and looked up at him. I met the blue eyes, more serious than ever before.

"Move in with me."

I was unable to control my excitement. I basically just threw myself at the Frenchman, I crashed our lips together, and I wasn't surprised when we fell into the snow.

We were a laughing, kissing mess, snow getting its way underneath my clothes, but did I care? No. Not even a single bit. I was going to move in with the man that I loved more dearly than anyone or anything before, and at the moment that was all that mattered.

"I'll take that as a yes", Francis said with a happy smile on his face, and I grinned, putting one of the earphones into Francis' ear.

We both grinned, lips pressing against each other in a loving kiss.

And now I see it clear, you really love me my dear

Take me far away so we can make love, Romeo

Oh, won't you fulfill my fantasies


End file.
